Mortal
by Crazy Foxie
Summary: Nabarl was always under the impression that he was a god of death. Immortal and out of reach of everyone else, until one man turned his world upside down.


**A/N:** Yay, my first Fire Emblem fic! I am most familiar with FE11/12 and I am also working with a partner to get the FE1 manga translated (see profile), so this fic is the result of finally getting to the Nabarl and Ogma gaiden chapters done. It is recommended that you read the two parts beforehand, which are 38.1 and 38.2. This one-shot can be seen as lots of fluff on the friendship side or, if you're like me, a somewhat twisted pairing.

Without further ado, hope you enjoy Fanfiction's first (and hopefully not last) Nabarl and Ogma centric fic!

* * *

**- Mortal -**

I had been called many things in my lifetime, and I came to accept myself as such. Children my age did not feel obligated to know me better, nor did they spare any kind words for me. The adults turned their noses up at the sight of me, making sure to scorn whenever I was within two meters of them. Over time, I learnt to shut out the insults I knew were headed my way.

As I grew older, the distance only increased between me and everyone else. My blade was all that could form the bridge between us. And as I swung my sword for banditry and profit, I would dance until I could finally hear the chimes of metal and screams of agony in my otherwise silent world. My inner demon would rear its ugly head, paralysing the best and weak alike with horrified wonder. My existence brought discomfort to all including me, and once too many even I had hoped that it would be my own blood seeping into the earth.

But no such thing happened, and I was forced to put up with the endless cycle. I was appropriately dubbed as a god of death – feared, immortal and in most cases the very figure of an omen.

The second I wasn't on the battlefield, I was known as a freak. The world came to a standstill whenever I walked past a crowd. Employers chose not to look at me in the eye when giving orders, afraid my disease would rub off on them if they did. And I did very little to relieve their anxiety.

And then, on our first meeting during a civil war, Ogma was the only one who accepted me for all that I was.

It was also then that we silently agreed that we would fight to the death in the near future. The sole promise I had made that didn't involve a contract or payment, but the unconditional sort that one would make with a friend, not the devil.

* * *

"Altea at last," Ogma mused as he came to join me.

I continued to stare out at the lack of greenery, the burnt pastures of Altea and castle set right at the heart. The homeland of Prince Marth may have once been a sight to behold, renowned for having hills of emerald, but the torment of war had dampened its beauty. Now, the only signs of splendour were the waters that poked at the mainland, glimmering dreamily in the moonlight. And come morning, one would find it was laden with blood as a result of its two long years of occupation.

"Tomorrow's a big day. How come you're not in bed like the rest?" Ogma folded his arms across his well-built chest. "I know for a fact you don't suffer from pre-battle insomnia."

I arched an eyebrow and opted to ignore that last remark. "There are some moments that you can only experience once." I finally looked across my shoulder.

Even in the darkness, Ogma's wide grin was positively radiant. His attire was ragged and torn, but was not a sign of poverty. It was the trait of a roguish mercenary, where the deep scar on his left cheek completed the look. "Fair enough." He looked around himself for a short while before slumping himself onto the grass. Evidently, he was anticipating a long stay, and my speculation proved to be right as he gestured for me to join him.

"So after we reclaim Altea, the end of this war is in sight," Ogma said as I sat down next to him. He frowned somewhat. "We'll each have our modest share of money and undeniable honour in our hearts. Our names would be written down in history as heroes. People across the continent would celebrate their good fortune and party for three days and three nights."

I didn't say anything as I brought my knee to my chin. All these presumptions were dependent on a number of factors. We hadn't faced anything yet.

Ogma sighed. "So after the celebrations die down, where will you go?"

I laughed softly as I brought my arms around my leg. "It amuses me how you think I'd stick around afterwards."

"Won't you?" he inquired, not bothering to hide his tone of interest. "Sure it's not your thing, but it'll probably be the last time the whole army would be together." The mercenary tilted his head back to face the sky. "We've all been through a lot together. I mean, look at us. Considering we've been here since the very start, I'd say we've done a pretty bang-up job."

I let my eyelids drift shut. Since joining up with the League in Devil Mountains, the army had stormed through Aurelis, Lefcandith, seized the Holy Capital Pales, crushed Gra and made an unfruitful detour to Khadein. We had yet to face the formidable opponents – Camus the Sable, King Michalis, High Priest Gharnef, Emperor Medeus.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," I replied honestly. "If you keep aspiring for the ideal future, you lose sight of what's directly in front of you."

Ogma gave a light shrug before he promptly disappeared from view as he threw himself onto the crisp grass. I didn't flinch as his bulky arm hit my side with surprising force. "Yeah, I get what you mean. Such optimists have their heads stuck in the clouds." He gave a cheeky smirk. "What would you say about our prince then?"

A small scoff escaped through my nose. "You're trying to catch me out," I mused as I too lifted my eyes to the heavens.

We both sat like that in silence for a few long minutes, watching the thick clouds blow over. The stars occasionally disappeared from view behind said obstructions, and when they would finally appear, they were brighter than ever. There was the low rumble of voices back at the main camp of those too nervous or excited to sleep, but it couldn't compare to Ogma's regular exhales.

It was likely it was to rain tomorrow. It was fortunate the two of us could sit, or in Ogma's case lie, on the grass whilst the mud below was hard and arid.

I started as Ogma suddenly gave a booming laugh. I gave him a deadpan stare, expectant that he would explain himself. Ogma waved his left hand lightly. "Forget what I just said. Marth's already fallen into that trap."

I would have asked him to elaborate, but his face was so content I couldn't bring myself to snap him out of it. His eyes were alight with amusement, the small dimples making themselves known as his grin grew increasingly wider. He was in a world of his own thoughts, and I had no obligation to invite myself in.

"Do you honestly believe we can win the war?" I asked instead. I was aware of what his answer was, but I wanted to hear exactly _how_ he would say it.

Ogma brought one hand behind his head, using it as a makeshift pillow. "You know, the first time I heard Marth say outright that he'll overthrow Doluna, I thought he was barmy. Now that we have gone this far, I can now say that Marth's words hold truth. If he says that we'll succeed, then we will."

I gave a curt nod. "You have a lot of faith in him," I noted.

"It's not only me," Ogma said in a tone that didn't suit him. "We have some rather high-standing folk in our ranks, and they wouldn't be here if they couldn't count on Marth to lead us." I knew he was talking about Hardin and Minerva in particular, high-standing nobles who were famous for being hard-headed and adamant. "And, I think that you feel the same as well."

My eyes narrowed somewhat as I glowered at my rival. "You'd be making a grave mistake if you believe my intentions are as good-natured as everyone else. I can turn traitor at the drop of a hat, and you will do well to note that."

But, although I said that, it was highly unlikely. The only reason I was here in the first place was not because of Marth's ambition or even Shiida's rash action in pursuing me, but rather because of Ogma.

"Such is the lifestyle of a mercenary," Ogma completed.

I nodded sagely. Ogma and I were both mercenaries, but that wasn't to say that he understood me completely.

After our parting years ago, I resumed my only way of life and continued to hack and maim with little discretion, but there was something different. I had been afraid of my own strength and what it had made me into. I had been cursed with inhuman agility and an immortal existence, plaguing the world with my name alone.

However, Ogma had unintentionally turned the whole thing around. By promising a duel to the death, he had offered me salvation. As we had stood in the full moon's dim light, he had blessed me and made me mortal. He had given my life a limit, and for the first time, I could say that I was living. In anticipation for our next meeting, I was prepared to become faster, stronger, anything that would make our next match the most memorable.

Ogma was the reason I no longer saw myself as the devil.

It was only by fate that we had reunited at all. I had the impression that fate would not be so kind for a second time if we were to go our separate ways.

I gave a small smile as the moon poked its head out of the clouds. "I've decided. When the war is over, I'll stay for at least some of the festivities." Just as Ogma opened his mouth to say something I'd rather not hear, I arched an eyebrow to silence him. "Then I'll go. I don't know where, but…"

It was very unlike me to leave a sentence incomplete. I was the type who thought before they acted, and yet words failed me.

Ogma didn't disguise his pout of confusion as he sat up. "You're going back?"

I shook my head slowly. He was talking about returning to the mercenary's step one, finding new contracts to fulfil, but that wasn't what I had in mind. Or at least not entirely. "There's a place I want to visit first."

It sounded absurd now it was out in the open. There wasn't much left of my hometown at all after the raid, but the talk of the future had made me unusually nostalgic. To my knowledge, it hadn't been rebuilt and the villagers had fled elsewhere to safety. I hadn't returned there since, and maybe it was high time I did. Although the scenery would be one of sadness and desolation, it had once been the place where the devil had surfaced.

I had come a long way thanks to my guardian's teachings, and now Ogma was succeeding that role.

I gritted my teeth and turned away – both incredibly uncharacteristic feats. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to take you there."

Ogma snorted through his nose. "Your attitude's starting to scare me now. So what's this mystery place?"

"I'd rather not say," I replied swiftly. "But…I'd like to pay my respects."

That's the only thing I really wanted to do. If no one else, Ogma should see the church that I was raised in. I wanted to show the priest who took care of me that I was no longer that little boy who expressed himself through violence. I would have the chance to apologise to those I had beaten up in the past, apologise to those I had failed to save that day.

And most of all, I would thank Ogma for his support through the War of Darkness and all our time together. The simple ones like now, the agitation we shared before the real battle, all of it. Then we would settle the duel at the birthplace of my demon, and in a twist of irony, the exorcism will succeed or fail there.

And, should fate decide it, I would embrace death happily knowing that the continent was in good hands. By reaching that moment, I could look back and say that I was more than an embodiment of fear.

Ogma's face hardened as he tried to examine mine. Fortunately from this angle, he couldn't see much more than the tip of my nose due to my long hair. "It's rare of you to show emotions. And yet when you do, you seem…" He drummed his fingers against his knee as though it made his brain work faster. "Lost."

He got onto his feet and took a few bold steps forward so he was in my sight. He looked out onto Altea again with one hand on his hip, and the wind tugged at the various strands of leather on his uniform. "I can't tell if you keep to yourself because you want to, but you shouldn't be afraid. If you have something on your mind, you can tell anyone here and they'll listen."

I exhaled through my nose somewhat irritably. "I decide my own path. Any hardships I encounter are my own, in the same way your problems are your problems."

Ogma laughed as he glanced over his shoulder. "That sounds a bit more like you."

My face remained stoic. Since Ogma mentioned my emotions, I instinctively blocked off everything that made me susceptible and vulnerable. I maintained such appearances as I wasn't eager to connect to people, however such tactics did not work with Ogma. But if I was too comfortable around him, I would lose who I really was.

"Which leads us to our problem," he said sternly. He turned his body to face me, and his frame was considerably broader from this angle. "Let's say we visit this mysterious place. We do stuff, then we're gonna fight."

I didn't move a muscle as he continued.

"Normally, I'd be fine about that. Our sort needs to have stimulation in our lives or else we're no better than manual labourers. And tough opponents are incredibly rare to come by." His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head to one side. "I don't know what your feelings are about our duel, but it's probably the most exciting thing I have on my horizon."

"I agree." There wasn't a shred of hesitation in my voice.

Ogma beamed. "I'm glad you say that. Cos if we spoil the moment too soon, then where's the future in that? It wouldn't be nearly as much of an accomplishment when we get there, and it'll just be another fight. So I'll go with you on one condition: we postpone the duel."

I shut my eyes and snickered lightly. It was such an Ogma thing to say. "Is that what you've wanted to say all this time?"

"I won't deny it," he admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "It's been bothering me how we've been fighting alongside each other for more than seven months. Even though we don't know it, we are unconsciously examining each other's methods and tactics. We know how the other responds, the instinctive quirks that could be used to one's advantage. And if that logic was to be applied into a duel, can it be called a fair fight?"

He grinned broadly. "At least I don't think so."

I gave a nonchalant shrug, but judging by his response, he didn't notice it. I didn't mind a great deal – if Ogma didn't find it fair, there was no point trying to argue that it was.

"So after the war, we'll go to a graveyard, say our goodbyes and we part ways to live our life to the fullest. And then, when we meet again, we'll have that glorious fight with no regrets." He gave a firm nod. "We will definitely make it happen."

I didn't say anything to show confirmation. The delay was only temporary, and if Ogma said so, it was inevitable that our paths would cross again, whether it be after months or years.

It didn't change the fact that I was human.

* * *

**A/N:** If I made Nabarl too emo, I'm sorry. I was basically trying to say Nabarl is glad he isn't a 'god'. And, in case you didn't get it, Ogma says Marth's fallen into the trap cos of Shiida's infatuation.

Other than that, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
